


Sweet Like Honey

by moonygirl76



Series: Shiall [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blow Job, Daddy Niall, Dom/sub Undertones, Jealousy, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, Oral Sex, Shiall, because no, because shiall made my heart grow two sizes, but no on screen taylor or hailee, but no one calls him daddy, closeting, fluff and angst in equal measures, free them, larry - Freeform, love is love, off screen larry, reference to hailee, reference to panic attacks, reference to sexuality crisis, reference to taylor, stunting, teddy geiger is amazing, teddy geiger/shawn mendes friendship, these tags are making me sweat, what if shiall is real, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 09:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonygirl76/pseuds/moonygirl76
Summary: In a non au world where Shawn and Niall work to continue what they've built together, they find that, maybe, it's time to figure out exactly what it is they are building, and what they mean to one another.Inspired, in part, by that Shiall pic at the RAMS game, where Niall looks so protective, and all of the other content we've been getting. I kept thinking: What if it is real?





	Sweet Like Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comment and kudos appreciated. I apologize in advance for Niall's accent.

Sweet Like Honey

 

Shawn rests his head against the glass of the window, cool from the air conditioning of the room. There are faint noises outside: the squawking of car horns, random yells, and a truck rolling by with a grumble of it’s diesel engine. The truck’s brakes screech as they reach the red light at the intersection. Inside the window, in this hotel room, there is mostly stale silence—the hum of the air, the occasional clack of a door closing in the hall, as a few travelers leave to catch their early flights is all.

Shawn sips on his glass of water, hand still shaky from his panic—No. It wasn’t an attack. It’s not like when he used to get them before. When everything was coming to a head. It’s just, like, lingering ripples. Occasional nights, like tonight, where he doesn’t sleep and thoughts swirl, and the buzz is too insistent under his skin.

He sets down his glass and picks up his phone. It’s nearly four in the morning, and he has a busy day planned. His team have made the itinerary for him, as they do.

He clicks onto his contacts. It’s well into daytime in London. So at least, if he calls, he won’t be waking him, like he has before. When he was too inside his own head to figure out the time difference. Still, Niall is a busy man. Always has a tight schedule, that he and his P.A. keep. She runs a tight ship. But _Call_ is what Niall always says. Good days or bad days. Or nights. He supposed to call. Niall told him to.

Shawn had thought of it several times, over the course of the long night. But he’s not always sure what to say. It’s not like anything happened. It’s not like there is always a triggering event to this feeling he gets. Just a feeling of wrongness. That something in his life is wrong. That all of his life is wrong.

He hits the contact as he blows out a breath, and hardly has a thought put together as to what to say when Niall’s gravel voice answers. “’Lo?” he says, simply.

“Hi,” Shawn says brightly. Falsely. Because that’s how he is on the phone. Everything is fine. Everything is good. “It’s Shawn,” he adds.

“Shawny, you are aware how cell phones work? That your contact comes up for me to see?” Niall says. There’s laughter in his voice. Teasing.

“Yes. I am aware. But it seems only polite,” Shawn says.

“Oh. We’re being polite then, are we? Well, hello then, Shawny. This is Niall by the way.”

A laugh comes out of him, cracking the stony muscles of his face. “Stop,” Shawn complains. But he loves this. Gentle teasing. The affection coming through in Niall’s voice. No sharp edges. All warm Irish brogue.

There’s movement on the other side and a door closing. “What’s up? Haven’t you slept?” Niall asks, a little more quietly than before. Softer. Concerned maybe.

“It’s very quiet here,” Shawn says.

“Quiet in L.A.?” Niall asks, soft teasing again.

“No. Probably not. But it’s quiet in my _room_ in L.A. In my head. Actually, that’s not very true. It’s loud in my head. But still quiet in my room and the disparity is making me feel, I don’t know, cavernous.”

Not _alone._ He doesn’t want to say that he feels alone. For one, it’s not exactly true. His team is here with him. Teddy and Emily are just down the hall. Hailey texted yesterday to say that he should make time to come have dinner with her and Justin and doesn’t that just sound domestic and cozy? “I feel disconnected. Unmoored,” Shawn adds, in a whisper.

“How bad is it?” Niall asks, and the there is a chill there now that wasn’t before. The smile is gone, and he sounds worried.

“No. No, not bad. Not like before. Just twitchy and tired, but altogether too wired to sleep. I’m not making sense,” Shawn tells him.

“I can come early, if you want,” Niall says.

“No,” Shawn shakes his head automatically. “Your P.A. would murder me. I know how important your schedule is,” Shawn forces out a laugh and hope he doesn’t sound desperate. Hope that it isn’t bleeding into his voice, despite his protests, how he aches with the idea of Niall being here with him.

There is silence on the other side of the line. “ _You’re_ important to me.”

It’s Shawn’s turn for silence. Throat is tight, and everything is wet, and he has to clench his jaw to not lose it completely. He swallows the lump and hopes Niall can’t hear it on the other end of the line.

“What can I do, then?” Niall asks. Softness back. So soft. Warm. Warm and soft. Voice like honey.

“Talk to me? Quiet my head.” Shawn says.

There’s more silence, and Shawn wonders if he shouldn’t have called, if he’s interrupted something. “Then get in bed, darling,” Niall says. And it’s like hot breath in Shawn’s ear, sending a thrill down his body.  “Get all tucked in, then I’ll talk you to sleep. Or sing to you, maybe? Whatever you need, baby. What do you need, Shawny?” There’s an edge there, with his voice dripping to a sexy growl. If Shawn wasn’t so tired. If he wasn’t so . . .  off. He walks over to the bed and climbs in. The covers are already tangled from his other poor attempts at sleep. He shakes out the covers and pulls them up.

He adjusts his pillow under his head. “Just talk to me, Niall. I want your voice to be the only thing filling my head.”

“Put your phone on speaker. Better plug it in, too, or you’ll wake up with a dead battery, won’t you?”

“Yes, Niall,” Shawn says.

“Good. Then lay down properly. Get all snugged in.”

“I’m snugged,” Shawn says, after plugging in the charge cord, laying the phone on the bedside table, and hitting the speaker button.

“Just walking back into the kitchen to brew me tea,” Niall says, through the speaker. His voice washes over Shawn again. Fills the room. “It’s an Irish Breakfast Tea. More robust than the English Breakfast. I like it with a splash of milk.”

“What a bout Canadian Breakfast Tea?” Shawn asks. “I imagine that’s the best, eh?”

“Oh! Aren’t we a bit cheeky with no sleepy?” Niall says.

Shawn presses his smile into his pillow, even though he knows Niall can’t see him. “Canadian and American tea is shite I have to bring the good stuff with me when I travel. Or, have someone special order it. I don’t like to go too diva about most things, but I have to have me Irish Breakfast Tea in the morning or Imma a grumpy lad, me.”

“I wish you were here,” Shawn says, quite without meaning to.

“If I was there, I’d be jet lagged, and wide awake. But I’d still do whatever I could to get you to sleep. Just cuddle you right up and hold you until you submit,” Niall says.

I swallow again, because of the double entendre.

“I might be a grumpy lad,” Shawn says, using his word, “if I don’t sleep.”

“You don’t get grumpy. Do you? Never seen you cross with anyone. You get rather distant, and out of sorts, though.”

“Yeah. I know. That’s how I feel now. It’s not morning there now, is it?” Shawn asks, thinking about what Niall said about the tea, and maybe he’s miscalculated the time difference.

“No. It’s gone noon here. I’m readying my second cuppa of the day. Had a haircut this morning, then met my trainer for an hour at that new gym in town. After a bite of lunch, gonna get some writing done. I want to get ahead for the week, because I’m going to see a special fella on Friday and I don’t want to have any worries while I’m away.”

“Is that me? A special fella?” Shawn asks.

“The _specialest_.”

“I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there. What have you planned for us?” Niall asks.

“I have some kind of dinner Friday, that you can come to. Something through the label. I have a writing session Saturday morning. I couldn’t get out of it, because the two people I’m writing with have to fly out the next day back to Nashville. But Andrew got us those tickets for the RAMs on Saturday. I’m going to make you fall in love with American Football.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Tell me more about your week,” Shawn says, with a yawn.

Niall rambles on, voice gritty, yet smooth. Deep, yet soft. Filling up all the porous holes that L.A. has made in him.

 

When Shawn wakes, it’s noon. L.A. time. The sun is pounding through gap in the curtains. There are two missed texts. One from Teddy telling him that he’s late for breakfast. And the second telling him that Teddy’s made excuses for him and that he’s free until two, when they’re to meet up with the venue to work out details for the charity gig he’s doing next month.

He calls room service and orders tea, even though he never has before. Then he calls back to order some toast and eggs to go with it. He tells them he wants the tea with honey.

 

The days go by without much incident or fanfare. Writing sessions go well. Nothing amazing, but it’s nice to meet new people exchange ideas. Shawn’s manager, Andrew, catches him drifting off in distraction during some lunch meeting on Friday a few times, before calling it off and making polite excuses. He knows. Niall will be here soon.

Shawn waits in his hotel room, sitting on the stiff, uncomfortable sofa. His knee bounces uncontrollably.

The knock comes firm on the door and Shawn moves his legs fast, in long strides across the living room to meet him. The door bangs shut and they are giggling into each other’s necks, both with handfuls of the other’s shirt. Shawn feels like a gangly oaf compared to the lean compact, perfect shape of Niall, and he has to crouch to burrow into the folds of his arms.

Niall leads them to the bed, where their height difference is moot, and Shawn continues to get smaller until he’s satisfied that he’s enveloped neatly in Niall’s embrace. He doesn’t realize the tears have started, until he feels that he’s soaked through Niall’s collar.

“There, there, sweetheart,” Niall coos at him when Shawn tries to apologize. Niall contracts his grip, and holds Shawn still when he tries to slide away, embarrassed by his tears. “You gotta feel, what ya feel,” Niall tells him. After several minutes, Niall leans back to kiss away the remains of Shawn’s tears. On his eyelids, down his cheeks, on his chin. Then finally his waiting mouth. He kisses soft. Soft and warm. Sweet. Like honey.

The clothes come off. Niall’s jeans take the longest. Shawn needs to have a word with Niall’s stylist. He hates those jeans.

Finally, free of the denim, Shawn wastes no time in pulling down Niall’s boxers as well. There’s a sudden need, a sudden thirst, that’s only quenched when he can get his mouth on Niall. Shawn, before Niall, had never done anything like this. He didn’t think he could enjoy it, even when he started to acknowledge his attraction to men in general. But with Niall it’s about the surrender. About worshipping and loving every part of Niall. Or maybe he just likes the weight of his penis in his mouth, and the way Niall coos at him, running his fingers through the curls of his hair and calling him baby. “So good, baby.” “Just like that, baby.”

Niall finishes rather quickly, with a blushed apology about a long week, and getting old. Before Shawn can contradict him, Niall distracts him with a hand down the front of his boxer briefs. Niall strokes him in long even passes. His hand strong and firm and his blue eyes, intent on never leaving Shawn’s face. Shawn comes with a drawn out moan, and a shiver that runs down his arms and lingers playfully in his fingertips.

Niall kisses him soundly. Languid and deep before peppering kisses over his neck and chest.

Niall lets him go, as his penis goes soft, returning to the bed with a washcloth and a glass of water. Niall moves Shawn’s useless long limbs until Niall is curled around him from behind. “Now we sleep,” Niall growls out.

Shawn giggles. “Niall. It’s three in the afternoon.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I got me boy, and we got this amazing bed. Just sleep, Shawny.”

Shawn lies still thinking about Niall’s words as Niall rubs his hand across his stomach and chest, carefully avoiding his nipples. Too soon.  His hand disappears suddenly and there’s a rustling as Niall finds the comforter at the end of the bed and pulls it over them both. “I should text someone to let them know we’re unavailable,” Shawn says.

“Done. I told the shower of cunts that picked me up not to ring us until eight.”

“My team is not a shower of cunts,” Shawn protests, while fighting off a laugh, and losing.

Niall kisses him behind his ear. His hand reappears on his stomach. “Whatever you say, baby. Now sleep.”

 

Shawn wakes to the sound of a toilet flushing. There’s a suit case open on the end of the bed, and Niall’s phone buzzes next to it with an incoming message. Shawn glances down at it without thinking.  “Have your people set the date. I’m free the first half of March xx” from the contact “Swifty”.

Niall reenters the room, just wearing his boxers. He crawls over to Shawn and pecks him on the lips. “Why is Taylor texting you?” Shawn asks.

“You tell me, you’re the one looking at me phone,” Niall says, not looking very bothered.

“She just texted you. Something about a date?”

“Oh, yeah. Business. As in none of yours,” Niall says, but he’s smiling. “It’s nothing. Just something our people want to set up.” He waves it away with his hand.

Shawn doesn’t feel as inclined to let the conversation go, but soon loses it from his mind with Niall’s mouth moving down his neck.

Niall looks up from where he’s working a mark into Shawn’s chest. “Forgot. Harry wants to have you for Sunday Roast when you come to London next month.”

“Sunday Roast?” Shawn asks, feeling the words out.

“Yeah. It’s a British thing. Like Saturday Brunch or Friday Night Pizza. Taco Tuesday?”

“Poutine Friday. When Harry Styles comes to Toronto, remind me, I’m going to take him out for Poutine.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Stop calling him _Harry Styles_ , you utter fan boy,” Niall says.

“He’s so amazing though, and I get to meet him! Finally met Liam a couple weeks ago. He was so nice. Gonna collect them all,” he says, in a teasing tone.

“You’re gorgeous,” Niall says suddenly.

“Stop,” Shawn complains.

“You are.”

“No. Please. The five original members of One Direction are gorgeous. Camila Cabello is gorgeous. I’m goofy-looking,” Shawn says. “With slightly above average hair.”

Niall continues to stare at Shawn’s face like he’s considering. A smile emerges on his face as he runs a finger along Shawn’s jawline. Shawn waits for the punchline. But then the smile drops with his hand. “Nope,” Niall says, “All I see is gorgeous.” He lets his body weight fall onto Shawn and pins his arms above his head. “Stop talking about these One Direction fellas. Those blokes are gonna make me jealous.”

“Oh, but they’re amazing, though,” Shawn says, carrying on the fan boy tone. “Harry Styles has the voice of an angel and I think I had my gay sexual awakening the first time I saw Louis Tomlinson in black skinnies.”

“Shut it!” Niall says, nipping at Shawn’s pec with his teeth.

“Ow! Make me.”

“Hmmm. Love to. What’s your safeword?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “I don’t need to have a safe word every time we’re messing around.”

“We should have one _every_ time. And you have to say it out loud. Louis, taught me that.”

Shawn’s eyebrows disappear under the curls on his forehead. “Aaaah. Please do not tell me about Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson’s sex life and their need for a safe word.”

Niall laughs into Shawn’s neck, still holding his hands above his head. “Or _do_ ,” Shawn says, quietly, “But it might affect how much eye contact I can make over Sunday Roast.”

“Let’s just say Harry has a bit of a pain kink,” Niall tells him. “That he’s been exploring with Louis since he was seventeen.”

“And Louis?”

Niall shrugs. “Louis just likes to take care of his baby.”

Shawn closes his eyes and hums. “Let’s just pretend that does not turn me on.”

Niall cackles. “Should we also pretend that you haven’t been reading the Larry Stylinson fanfiction?”

Shawn opens his eyes. “I was fifteen! How did you know that?”

Niall is laughing so hard he has to roll off Shawn, releasing his arms to hold his stomach.  “I was joking!” Niall says, when he gets his breath back. “Your face!”

Shawn tries to flee, but Niall gets his arms around his waist and pulls him back. Shawn lets Niall wrangle him until he’s on his back and Niall is on top of him again. Shawn wraps his arms around Niall’s neck and buries his face in his chest.

Niall is still snorting as he tries to calm down his laughter. “You should never date your idols,” Shawn whines.

Niall leans down to smack a kiss to his mouth. “Not if your idols are me friends!”

“You’re my favorite member of One Direction, Niall!” Shawn coos.

Niall laughs before kissing him soundly. “I better be.”

A phone buzzes again. This time it’s Shawn’s.

 

Shawn and Niall are having dinner with friends. Well. Industry friends. Niall has put on an even tighter pair of blue jeans. Shawn loves those jeans. He’s going to have a word with Niall’s stylist.

Shawn stops Niall before he can open the room door to leave. He hands Niall the second key card, in case they have to enter separately later. They probably should, in fact.

“How should I introduce you?” Shawn asks him.

“Eh?”

“To my friends. Or, like, colleagues, I mean.”

“Who’s gonna be there?” Niall asks.

“Um. Teddy, her fiancé Emily, a couple other people I write with, like Scott and Geoff, my manager, Andrew, my assistant, Nathalie, some people from the label, and some guys from a new local band my label just picked up.”

“Babe. For one, you don’t need to introduce me. For second, it’s better you don’t. You can’t lie for shit and get all flirty and heart eyes,” Niall says. Shawn opens his mouth to protest. “Baby,” Niall says, softening his words with a smile and gripping both his arms, “you can’t deny it. I know your people have shown you the clips.”

Shawn pinches his lips together in a pout and doesn’t respond.

“Then, you overcompensate.”

“How do I overcompensate?” Shawn asks, indignantly.

“Oh. Hailee and Niall?” Niall asks in an exaggerated Canadian accent. “I love them together. Bunches. In fact. They’re my favorite couple of all time and they should have babies. If I could have babies, I would have their babies for them. Isn’t that a great idea, eh? It would be super.”

Shawn fights his smile back. “Why do I like you.”

“And thirdly. You don’t need to introduce me,” Niall says.

“Because you’re Niall Horan from One Direction.”

“No. Because I’m going to be staring at you all night and everyone there is going to figure out what you are to me.”

He pulls Shawn down by the back of the neck, so he can kiss him hard. “Don’t let me have more than four Pints,” he says against Shawn’s lips, “or I’ll be touching you in front of everyone as well. Wouldn’t mind everyone knowing you’re me boy.”

“Your boy,” Shawn repeats, blinking at Niall. He thinks he hears Niall saying something about stopping at his room and messing up the bed so there’s no talk from the staff, but he’s not really listening. Shawn stands there touching his lips until he’s sure he can leave the room without smiling like an idiot.

 

When Shawn reaches the lobby of the hotel Niall is already there and hugging Teddy. He doesn’t know why Niall is hugging Teddy, but there he is. Hugging Teddy. “You look lovely, darling,” Niall says. Teddy beams.

“Thank you.  It’s so great to see you again, Niall,” she says.

Shawn wonders how Niall knows Teddy. “How do you know Teddy?” he asked.

“Teddy wrote on our third album. Spent some time with us.”

“How did I not know this?” Shawn asks.

“Because you were working on puberty. In Canada. Probably busy getting your braces off,” Teddy says.

Emily is laughing. Niall is . . . to his credit he is trying valiantly to appear deaf. He doesn’t like dwelling on their age difference either.

In the car, Emily gushes over Niall’s shoes. “Shawn, you should wear something like that to the Brit’s.”

“A Canadian. In London. Wearing Irish brogues. I highly doubt I can pull that off,” Shawn says.

“It’s fashion, not an international incident. Tell him, Teddy,” Emily says.

“It’s fashion. And perhaps it’s time you take a fashion note from one Mr. Niall Horan, instead of just emulating Mr. Harry Styles,” Teddy says.

Niall snorts.

“But high heel boots are comfortable,” Shawn whines. “And Harry Styles is hot.”

Next to him, Niall squeezes his thigh. If the others notice, they don’t comment.

 

The valet directs them around to the back entrance and someone in a tie takes Teddy’s keys, so the group can enter the back of the restaurant. They are led to a private area with a long table that looks like it can seat twenty. People are milling around the room, sampling appetizers and sipping on drinks. Shawn turns to see if Niall wants a beer, when a blonde woman about his age throws her arms around him.

“Niall! You rat! I didn’t know you’d be here!” she yells.

Shawn doesn’t hear Niall’s response, because she’s now hooked her arm in his and is leading him away.

“Elle Fanning,” Teddy says. Shawn glances around and sees that they are pretty much on their own. Emily is walking toward the bar. “Elle is an actress who is friends with Hailee Steinfeld.”

“She’s pretty,” Shawn says, determinedly looking right at Teddy, and not at all around the room for Niall and the pretty girl. Even if he can hear his laugh.

“She is also dating the drummer from “Cornish Handbags” which is the band we are celebrating tonight.”

“Great for her. And him. Great for them,” Shawn says.

Teddy steps closer. “You invited him knowing full well that even if there are no paps and no fans, this is still a public space. People talk.” She leaves it at that and doesn’t say out loud that both he and Niall are in the closet. People can wonder about their friendship, and Shawn and Niall can tease it with pictures on socials, but there is a line.

“It could be a lot worse,” Teddy says.

Shawn nods. Because he very well knows this. Someone is calling for Teddy, congratulating her on their Grammy nom. Shawn keeps his head down and moves away from her toward the appetizers. The cavernous feeling is back in his chest. Like something is wrong. Except this time, he knows exactly what.

When the owner of the restaurant comes in to greet them and thank them for coming, people start to seat themselves at the table. Andrew, his manager, snags his elbow and guides him to sit next to him. He points to the man on the other side of Shawn. “Shawn I’d like you to meet Jesse. Jesse’s band is the newest members to the Universal Island family.”

They shake hands and Jesse starts talking about how excited they all are. Dreams coming true, and all that. Shawn congratulates him and uses the distraction of looking around the table to spot Niall. Niall is sitting half way down the table and across with that blonde girl. They are taking a selfie and he wonders if the girl plans to send it to Hailee. Which is fine. He knows that Niall is friends with Hailee. Before the stunt and after. And, of course, during. Or at least friendly. Shawn isn’t sure how friendly. As in, how much time they actually spent with each other, or how friendly in any sense of the word. They must have been closer that Shawn knew, if Niall is friends with her friends.

It’s not like Niall and Shawn are what you call exclusive. Well. Shawn isn’t seeing anyone else. He was even goofier-looking before he was famous, which wasn’t that long ago in the scheme of things. He’d still managed to date a couple of nice girls in high school. After signing his deal, he was encouraged, after telling his team that he preferred men (a conclusion he came to after many panic attacks and mental anguish) to spend public time with Camila and Hailey and to be cagey about the details. It was all fine and good, and they accepted him, but the young adult pop market wasn’t ready to embrace a young gay pop star writing love songs. At least, that’s what they kept telling him. So, between his career and his public closet, it didn’t leave a lot of room to find someone to fall in love with. Which is what he wanted. Not meaningless flings and dirty hand jobs in club toilets.

Niall wasn’t planned. He just walked straight up to him and cut through the bullshit. As he does. Shawn had been having a mild to moderate freak out in the men’s room at the AMAs after being pressed about Hailey by an aggressive journo on the red carpet. Niall, without pretense, had come right up to him and told him. “It’s okay. You’re okay. This place is full of people faking it.”

Which you could take to mean a lot of things. “You have very pretty eyes to go with that pretty voice,” Niall had said. Which could not be taken very many ways. “Can I give you my number?”

It advanced from there with coming to each other’s shows, and movie nights, and home karaoke, and criss-crossing the globe to carve out time with each other. Long talks about fears, and plans and hurts and successes. It had all led to, over many months, what they have now. But what do they have now?

Shawn feels a tap on his left arm and he turns to see Jesse with two beers in his hands. “I saw you didn’t have one. Is this okay?” he asks. Shawn nods and accepts one of the beers with a thanks. Shawn plods through dinner, chatting with Jesse and sipping his beer. Jesse is interesting enough. Grew up in a suburban home like Shawn. Outside of L.A. instead of Toronto. Has a younger brother, whereas Shawn has a little sister. They chat about bands and the label. It’s so pleasant that he almost forgets that he’s sulking over Niall, until Niall appears, at his elbow. Right in between Shawn and Jesse.

“Hey,” Niall says.

“Bro,” Jesse says, from behind him.

“Not your bro,” Niall answers, not looking away from Shawn. Shawn gives him a look.

Niall turns around and shakes Jesse’s hand and congratulates him on his record contract. Jesse thanks him profusely and seems to be trying to invite Niall to their gig. “Sorry, no,” Niall says, without giving him an explanation. Jesse stands.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Shawn?” Jesse asks.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Jesse steps around Niall and bends down so Shawn can hear him. “Would you mind, giving our band a follow on Twitter? Would mean a lot to the guys.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Could you. . .?” he pulls up Twitter and then hands Jesse his phone to find his account. Niall is staring at him. He’s not smiling.

Jesse hands him back his phone and Shawn hits the follow button. Shawn makes a motion for Jesse’s phone. “Do you want me to . . .?”

“Oh. I’ve followed you for a long time,” he says.

Niall is still frowning.

When Jesse moves off to fill his drink, Niall sits in his chair he’s just vacated. “So, there’s a group going over to a club nearby for some drinks. Apparently, they have a nice VIP section.”

“Is Hailee going to be there?” Shawn asks.

There’s a pause. “Yeah. Maybe,” Niall says.

“You might get photographed,” Shawn says.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Niall says again.

Shawn shrugs his shoulders and looks around the room. “I’m not really supposed to be drinking at a club. I’m not of legal age in this country.”

“You’re joking,” Niall says.

Shawn finally looks at him. “I have a Work Visa to look after.”

Niall looks like he’s not sure whether or not to believe him, which is fine, because Shawn isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth. Well. He _is_ too young to legally drink, though VIP does have its privileges. “Is there something else you’d rather be doing?” Niall asks.

_Go somewhere I can be your boy,_ Shawn thinks.

“I have that early writing session tomorrow,” Shawn hears himself say instead.

Niall leans back in his chair and something flutters in Shawn’s chest. “Okay. I have a tee time tomorrow. In the afternoon.”

“Are you going to make the game? Kickoff is at four.”

“Of course, I’ll make the game. I told you I would. I only made plans to golf because I knew you’d be recording all day,” Niall says. He’s not yelling, but he’s still all kinds of frowning. This is not how this weekend was supposed to go.

Shawn hesitates. He wants badly to invite Niall back to his room tonight or, at least, neutrally let him know he’s welcome. But even in this space, though people seem much more interested in their drinks and their conversations, he doesn’t think reminding Niall that his suitcase is in his room, would be very prudent.

He’s messing this up.

They both know that there’s a conversation that thy need to have, and this isn’t the place to do it. Shawn clenches his fists in his lap and tries to remember to breathe.

Teddy jangles her keys behind him. “Don’t mean to cut the party short, but I have to get this one down for the night,” she says. Emily is leaning heavy on her shoulder, bleary-eyed and loose-limbed. “Need a ride, Shawn?”

Shawn looks to Niall, who isn’t saying anything. Shawn doesn’t want to be here anymore, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to be with Hailee Fucking Steinfeld. Jesse chooses this moment to return with two beers.

“I thought you might have changed your mind,” he says to Shawn, setting one in front of him.

Shawn opens his mouth to politely demure. To beg off that his ride is leaving when Niall stands up. “I’m heading off for a nightcap with some friends. Good to see you, buddy,” Niall says to Shawn. It takes a second for Shawn to realize that Niall is speaking to him, and another second to realize that he has his arms open to offer him a bro hug.

“Oh, yeah. You, too, man,” Shawn says, standing up to lean into the embrace.

“I’ll try not to wake you when I come in,” Niall says, into Shawn’s ear, while giving him couple of friendly slaps on the back. When he leans back, he waits for Shawn to nod his consent. Shawn gives it and smiles. Maybe not everything is messed up.

 

Shawn blames the second beer—or was it his third? But all the anxiety, and busy -brain that he usually has at night, had melted away. He had taken an Uber back to the hotel with Andrew, his manager gently scolding him about being so tipsy, and sort of passes out as soon as his clothes are off and his head hits the pillow.

It takes him a second or three to figure out where he is (hotel in L.A.) and why he’s awake (someone is knocking).

“Just a sec,” he calls out, getting up slowly. He’s not sure if it’s his height, but he has had incidents before of passing out if he gets up too quickly.

Once vertical, he ambles from the bedroom, through the sitting room, and to the door. He carefully checks the peephole and sees that it’s just Niall. He unlocks all the latches as lets him in. Niall lets the door shut behind him and looks hesitant to enter much further, and certainly isn’t making any move to touch Shawn. It’s a sad juxtaposition from their reunion only hours before.

“Why’d you knock? Did you lose your card key?” Shawn asks, in a low voice.

“In case you’d changed your mind. Or in case you brought that fella back instead,” Niall says, taking in Shawn’s state of undress.

Shawn is well awake now, and completely sober. “If that’s a joke, I’m not laughing.”

“Not a joke. He was up for it. Saw him wink at you.”

“I must have missed that, seeing as I was paying so much attention to you.”

“We’re not exclusive. You can do what you’d like, Shawny. Was just hoping you wouldn’t do it with me staying in your room.”

“Says the guy, who left me to have a drink and whatever else with his ex,” Shawn says. “Good to know now that anything goes.”

Niall narrows his eyes.

“I think you’d better get your things,” Shawn says, chest aching. “and stay in your own room.”

Niall hesitates before nodding.

“I think you remember where the bedroom is,” Shawn says.

Niall looks at him, as if to call his bluff. Shawn huffs out a breath and leads the way. Niall’s suitcase is still where he left it, at the end of the bed. “Let me just hide this harem of men I brought home, Niall,” Shawn says, flopping down on the mattress. He gets under the covers, suddenly exhausted. He pulls the covers up to his chin.

Niall stands there at the foot of the bed for what seems like forever, before zipping up his bag and sliding it off the end of the bed. Shawn feels a caress on his calf through the blanket. “I’m sorry,” Niall says softly. Warm like honey.

“Me, too,” Shawn answers back.

 

Teddy pulls Shawn out of the writing session half way through and somehow finds them a room with a door and a couch. She cuddles him up and it isn’t long before his eyes are wet. When his breath becomes a choppy mess, Teddy rubs his back and talks him through it.

“We’ve talked about this before, Shawn. You have to make peace with the closet for now. Niall doesn’t like it any more than you do,” Teddy tells him.

“I know.”

“If you trust Niall, you have to extend that trust, and he has to do the same for you or whatever you have isn’t going to work,” she says.

“I know that.”

“Long- distance is hard enough, but it’s even harder in the closet. I’ve been there, you know I have.”

“I know you have. I don’t know if he wants what I want.”

“How do you figure that?” she asks.

“He’s getting texts from girls and is always going out with girls.”

“You get texts from girls, Shawn. You go out with girls.”

“I just— ” Shawn is cut off by the buzz in his pocket. He takes out his phone. “Haileebee” contact. “Sorry you couldn’t make it out last night,” it says, “Niall was a miserable old man without you.” She added a frowny-face emoji.

His phone buzzes again. Email. He clicks over. It’s from Taylor. A group charity project in Nashville. Early March. She’s waiting to hear back from a couple of people but wanted to include him.

“Wow. I am such an idiot,” Shawn says to Teddy, laying his head on her shoulder.

“Aren’t we all?” she says. She kisses the top of his head. “Let’s knock off and get some lunch.”

 

Shawn takes his time with his hair. And his outfit. Niall’s suitcase is still gone, and so is he. Hopefully not _gone_ , gone. Just stuff-in-his-room and out-golfing gone. There’s a knock on his door and he rushes over and opens it without looking through the peephole.

It’s not Niall. It’s one of his assistants, Nathalie, and a guy from his security team, Bradley. “Ready?” Nathalie asks. Shawn checks his phone for the time. If they don’t leave now, they might miss kickoff. Shawn walks purposely slow down the halls. He’s not even sure which room Niall is in. He could text him. But if Niall is breaking it off with him, he doesn’t want to do the whole thing over text.

The car is quiet, Nathalie and Bradley are on their phones, and the driver has earbuds in and is humming softly to whatever is playing. If sounds a lot like the melody of Our Town, but Shawn hopes that the universe isn’t that cruel.

“I gave him his ticket,” Nathalie says from next to him.

“What?”

“Niall Horan. He found me this morning at breakfast and asked for it. I hope that’s okay. You’d already left with your group to your session.”

“Oh. Yeah. Fine.”

 

Their box is stocked with food, and people, but Niall is nowhere to be found. Shawn takes a deep breath and looks for any other familiar faces other than Nathalie and Bradley, who are hovering in the back of the room. Then there is a wall of blue in front of him. It’s not a wall. It’s a man. In a blue shirt. Built like a wall. Not as tall as Shawn, but wide. Like a wide blue wall.

“Shawn Mendes! Gary Trotter,” he says, reaching out his hand. Shawn shakes it. “Used to play for the Rams. Blew out my knee in _Oh Nine_.”

“Nice to meet you. I’ve become a big fan, despite not being a native.” Social skills. Shawn has them and he’s going to use them.

“They’re having a great year. Hey, didn’t you used to bang Camila _Carmelbello_?” he asks.

Shawn’s mouth is suddenly dry. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“Right. Friend. Can you hook a dude up with her number?”

Shawn hates confrontation. “Um. No, I don’t think she would appreciate that.”

“Because I’m not a pop star? That’s not right. You pop stars get all the chicks. Used to be the NFL got all the chicks, but now they all want someone to be sensitive and sing to them and shit.”

Niall is suddenly between them. “Can we talk?” he says to Shawn.

“Hey. Get in line. He’s about to give me _Carmilla_ ’s number,” Gary says.

“No. He’s really not. And your zipper is undone.”

The guy turns away and Niall tugs on the sleeve of Shawn’s jean jacket until he’s sure he’s following. He leads him to some kind of office, that appears to be empty. He shuts the door behind them.

Shawn isn’t sure who moves first, but they are hugging. Shawn pushes Niall back until he’s sitting in the chair in front of the desk and wastes no time climbing into his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” Shawn says.

“No. Fuck, Shawn. “Niall takes Shawn’s face in both hands to pull it from is neck so he’ll look at him. “I was goin’ out me head. Had myself convinced that you’d leave with that guy last night.”

“Niall. I’m not like that. You’re the only person I’ve ever taken home.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve been with a thousand people. I had no right to treat you like that, ” Niall says.

“I don’t want anyone else, and I hate the thought of you with anyone else.”

“Shawny, you know there’s nothing with me and Hailee.”

“I know.”

“Or Taylor Swift. In a million fucking years.”

Shawn hesitates, he didn’t know Niall was onto him about his suspicions. “I know,” he says.

“But you don’t like it.”

“I hate it,” Shawn says, his voice cracking.

“Baby, do you have any idea how lucky we are? How I’ve had to watch my friends be broken down and rebuilt on how to stand, walk, talk and dress? I’ve seen them just almost ruined over horrible public stunts and forced time apart?”

“God. You must think I’m so pathetic. I can’t even handle hand holding and lies in print articles.”

“I hate it all, too. Again, luckily, I’m not “flamboyant” enough for anyone to push anything too hard. Hailee is probably the most I’ve publicly stunted.”

“Then why did you do it? IS the publicity really worth it?”

Niall doesn’t say anything at first, but his eye contact is broken, and his hand stills where he’s been caressing Shawn’s jawline.

“For me? Have you been stunting for me?” Shawn asks, gripping Niall’s sweater at his shoulders.

“Not entirely. But, if it protects my closet, then it also protects yours.”

“Oh. Like you said. I can’t lie for shit.”

“Yeah. But I can. And if I can shut down the suspicion, then people are more inclined to believe your print articles, or your hand holding.”

Shawn lays his head back on Niall’s shoulder. Niall’s lips rest on his cheek. “I want what you do, baby. I want it just to be us.”

“It already is.”

 

The thrill of the game forgotten, Niall slips out of the stadium first and gets a cab. Shawn finds his team and makes excuses no one believes to get them to take him back to the hotel. Niall lets him in the room before he can even get his card key out, and is kissing him before he can even say hello.

Shawn slides out of his own jacket before peeling off Niall’s sweater, running his hands over the expanse of Niall’s golden, toned, chest. Niall bats his hands away to get Shawn out of his shirt, which gets tangled in Shawn’s arms on the way off. He giggles, helplessly, until Niall is able to free him. They both wrestle out of their own tight jeans, shoes being kicked every which way around the room.

When they come back to each other, it’s with a slow deep exploring kiss. Then Shawn makes a lurch for his bag on the floor to find lube and condoms, which he slaps on the bed next to Niall.

“Are you sure?” Niall asks.

“Niall. I am explicitly, verbally giving you consent to ravage me thoroughly. My safe word is ‘mapleleaf’ and if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to find that octogenarian doorman to do it for you.”

Niall maneuvers Shawn onto his back. “Hell, you are. Old man will have to fight me for me boy.”

“Your boy,” Shawn repeats, with a smile.

“Mine,” Niall says. He kisses Shawn again taking his time before biting playfully on his bottom lip.

He slides Shawn’s boxer briefs down slowly, watching his face for any sign that he’s changed his mind, despite his words of bravado.

Shawn watches as Niall lubes his two fingers generously before reaching down touching Shawn’s hole. Shawn fights the urge to close his knees, and instead focuses on the feeling of Niall’s caress. When Niall starts to press in for the first time, Shawn asks him to kiss him.

He works him open from one to two, and Shawn yells out at the sharp bite of pleasure he feels as Niall brushes what must be his prostate. He’s not completely ignorant, he has read fanfiction, after all.

He breathlessly tells Niall he’s ready, squeezing his shoulders in desperation. Niall shooshes him gently. “Not yet, baby,” Niall tells him. He works him to three fingers, and the pressure alone is making his penis hard and he’s wetter than he’s ever been.

“Niall? Niall, please,” he begs.

Niall slides his fingers out and takes time to kiss along Shawn’s forehead and down his face. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says.

Shawn looks down to see Niall rolling on the condom and adding more lube.

“Yes, yes,” Shawn says, before Niall can ask for consent again, reaching for Niall’s hips. Niall breaches him slowly, sweat beading along his brow, as he watches Shawn’s face. Once he is all the way in, he wraps Shawn’s long legs around his waist. Niall settles into an easy rhythm, echoed by Shawn’s vocal moans that accompany each thrust.

Shawn is floating. He flops his arms back, unable to keep the strength of holding onto Niall. Niall’s abs brush against Shawn’s penis in a delicious friction. He’s so stretched full, and Niall is hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust. He can vaguely hear Niall encouraging him, but it’s far away as he floats on a cloud of pleasure that finally peaks causing him to yell out in a long-drawn out moan as he comes.

Niall’s final thrusts are a frenzy, as he seeks his own release. Shawn lifts his weak arms to wrap around him. Squeezing Niall to him with all his strength of his arms, legs, and inside where they meet. Niall grunts he comes, squeezing his knees around Shawn’s hips before collapsing down onto him, breathing hard. Shawn rubs his arms, which are shaking.

Niall pulls out slowly and, after assuring Shawn he’ll return, leaves the bed. Shawn soon feels the bed dip with his return. He yelps in surprise as a warm cloth ghosts over stomach and groin, then he’s being manhandled again, limbs akimbo, until Niall has him spooned in front of him.

Shawn tips his head to the side as he feels warm kisses against his neck and below his ear.

Warm breath. Soft kisses.

Sweet. Like honey.


End file.
